An Event in Autumn: A Kurt Wallander Mystery

Chapter 2

Shortly after noon Wallander left for the police station. When he came out into the street he paused for a moment, wondering if he should take the car. But his conscience immediately began to nag him: he didn’t get enough exercise. Besides, Linda was no doubt standing at the window, watching him. If he took the car, he’d never hear the last of it.

He started walking.

We’re like an old married couple, he thought. Or a middle-aged policeman with much too young a wife. At first I was married to her mother. Now it’s as if the two of us are living in some sort of strange marriage, my daughter and I. All very respectable. But a cause of mutual and constantly increasing irritation.

Martinson was sitting in his office when Wallander arrived at the deserted police station. While his colleague concluded a telephone call about a missing tractor, Wallander glanced through a new edict from the National Police Board that was lying on the desk. It was about the use of pepper spray. An experimental operation had taken place in southern Sweden recently, and an assessment had concluded that the weapon had proved to be an excellent device for calming down violent individuals.

Wallander suddenly felt old. He was a terrible shot and was always frightened of getting into a situation when he would be forced to fire his service pistol. It had happened, and a few years ago he had shot and killed a man in self-defense. But the very thought of expanding his limited arsenal with a collection of little cans of spray was not something he found attractive.

I’m growing too old, he thought. Too old for my own good, and too old for my job.

Martinson slammed down the receiver and jumped up from his chair. The action reminded Wallander of the young man who had joined the Ystad police some fifteen years earlier. Even then Martinson had been unsure whether or not he was cut out to be a police officer. On several occasions over the years he had been on the point of resigning — but he had always stayed on. Now he was no longer young. But unlike Wallander, he had not put on weight: on the contrary, he had grown thinner. The biggest change was that his thick brown hair had vanished — Martinson had become bald.

Martinson gave him a bunch of keys. Wallander could see that most of them looked rather ancient.

“It belongs to a cousin of my wife’s,” said Martinson. “He’s very old, the house is empty, but for ages he’s been digging in his heels and refusing to sell it. Now he’s in a care home, and he accepts that he won’t be leaving there alive. A while ago he asked me to look after the selling of his house. The time has now come. I thought of you straightaway.”

Martinson gestured toward a worn-out and rickety visitor chair. Wallander sat down.

“I thought of you for several reasons,” he continued. “Partly because I knew you were looking for a house out in the country. But also because of where it’s actually situated.”

Wallander waited for what was coming next. He knew that Martinson had a tendency to make a long story of things — to complicate matters that ought to be simple.

“The house is in Vretsvägen, out in Löderup,” said Martinson.

Wallander knew where he meant.

“Which house is it?”

“My wife’s cousin is called Karl Eriksson.”

Wallander thought for a moment.

“Wasn’t he the one who had a smithy next to the gas station some years ago?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

Wallander stood up.

“I’ve driven past that house lots of times. It might be too close to where my father used to live for it to be suitable for me.”

“Why not go and take a look?”

“How much does he want for it?”

“He’s left that up to me. But as it’s my wife who’s in line for the money, I have to ask for a fair market price.”

Wallander paused in the doorway. He had suddenly become doubtful.

“Could you perhaps give some indication of the asking price? There’s not much point in my driving out there and looking at the house if it’s going to be so expensive that I can’t even contemplate buying it.”

“Go and have a look,” said Martinson. “You can afford it. If you want it.”